Miss Perrin lifted the blanket of the nearest baby and showed the children a tag fastened to its dress. On the tag was a number and a name. The name was that of the mother, and the number that of her bed.
“Whenever a nurse dresses a baby,” Miss Perrin explained, “the first thing she does is to take off this tag and fasten it to the clean dress. And she mustn’t touch another baby until the first one is finished. But we also mark them in another way.”
Miss Perrin uncovered a tiny foot. On its sole was stuck a piece of cloth plaster with the mother’s name written on it.
“You see they cannot be mixed,” she said. “And, anyway, the mothers soon know their own babies.”
“Of course,” Dora agreed.
Lucy gave an exclamation. In one wire basket lay a baby, no smaller than the others, for all were small, but different, because it was a colored baby. Its skin was black and wee bits of wool covered its head.
“Isn’t it cunning!” said Lucy. “Oh, Dora, I wish we could have it at our house.”
“So do I,” said Dora.
Miss Perrin laughed. “I guess Mother wouldn’t want you to have it,” she said. “Her name is Blanche, and she is just as good as a kitten.”
Lucy and Dora could not leave that little black baby. They liked it best of any, and when Miss Chandler came back, she found them by its basket. They talked about it all the way to Miss Chandler’s apartment, and while they were packing the suit-case.